


Human-Machine Interface

by wallhaditcoming



Category: Mass Effect, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Artificial Intelligence, Charles is an AI, Erik is a grumpy pilot, M/M, Other, pre-slash of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:34:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallhaditcoming/pseuds/wallhaditcoming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of the Computerized Holistic Analytical Reasoning Logistical Electronic System and the pilot who hates it.  No, really.  He hates it.  Ask anyone (except the Commander, she’s full of shit).  Or, EDI!Charles and Joker!Erik.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Human-Machine Interface

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ninemoons42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/gifts).



> A belated birthday gift for ninemoons42, originally posted on my tumblr.
> 
> Spoilers for ME2 and spoilers for bits of the beginning of ME3, and probably incomprensible if you are unfamiliar with the Mass Effect series.

Erik wasn’t a fan of Cerberus.  At all.  Flying under their flag, with a crew full of Cerberus lackeys…it made him nervous.  Still, it wasn’t Cerberus he was here for.  It was the Commander.  She’d died trying to save him, for all that it hadn’t stuck.  The least Erik could do was pilot a ship for her.  The very least.

And it wasn’t like it was a hardship or anything.  Erik loved everything about the new Normandy.

“Mr. Lehnsherr,” an artificial voice spoke from his left, and Erik grit his teeth.

Correction.  Erik loved  _almost_  everything about the new Normandy.

The Computerized Holistic Analytical Reasoning Logistical Electronic System, or CHARLES, was the rather glaring exception to this rule.  Erik  _hated_  the AI.

“Yes, CHARLES?” Erik said, infusing his voice with as much sweetness as he could muster.

“I am having some trouble with my cameras on the bridge, Mr. Lehnsherr.  The majority of my footage is of poor quality.”

“That would be because I spread grease across the lenses, CHARLES,” Erik said in the same saccharine tone.

“Tampering with equipment is a violation of regulations, Mr. Lehnsherr,” the AI said in a tone that Erik imagined sounded frosty.

“I prefer to think of it workplace personalization,” Erik said, and this time his smile was genuine, for all that it was filled with enough teeth to make humans and several other species nervous.

The AI wasn’t human though, and thus was undeterred.

“Mr. Lehnsherr…” it began in a tone that Erik liked to imagine sounded angry, “interfering with the functionally of equipment does not fall under the category of ‘workplace personalization’.  A more accurate definition would be vandalism.”

“You just told me that, in your opinion, my method of self-expression was a crime.  Surely  _that_  is a violation of your companies’ regulations, much more than my harmless little modification.”

The silence on the bridge was an anticipatory one, and Erik found himself smiling as he began devising new ways to attempt to work around whatever complaint the AI would attempt to come up with.

Before either had a chance to engage, however, the Commander entered, and Erik instead found himself engaging with the AI indirectly.  It should have been just as satisfying – the point was to make it as annoyed and uncomfortable as possible, but when the Commander left, the dispute between them resolved by her stern glare and role of her eyes, he couldn't help but feel cheated.

* * *

Erik hated the AI.  Really, he did.  But the bridge was isolated at the front of the ship, and it wasn’t as if Erik wanted to talk to any of Cerberus lackeys, not that they were lining up to make conversation with him or anything.

So, more often than he would like, Erik found himself talking aloud.  And if a certain AI happened to answer back every once in awhile, well, there wasn’t anything Erik could do about that.

* * *

Erik enjoyed doing everything he could to irritate the AI, trying to throw it off it’s game, trying to prove he was the best.  He’d shown them all in flight school, despite the disease that made the bones in his legs so brittle as to be nearly useless, and he would show this AI too.  Erik Lehnsherr was the best.

So CHARLES challenged him, and Erik threw every challenge right back in his face, always rising to the occasion and beyond.   He wasn't going to let some AI replace him.  Even one like CHARLES.

It didn’t feel hostile though, not the way it did back in the academy’s flight school.  It felt like the AI was…egging him on, for lack of a better term.  It was almost friendly.  And it wasn’t as if Erik didn’t give just as good as he got.

CHARLES confirmed it in the wake of one of Erik’s more crass comments about flashing the AI core when the Commander popped up to visit, going so far as to call Erik “atypical” and “interesting”, which, when coming from an AI, were serious compliments.

If after that the phrase “pulling pig-tails” started to come up whenever Erik mentioned what the AI had done that time, or what he had done to the AI, well, clearly being dead for two years had done more damage to the Commander’s brain than Erik had originally thought.

* * *

CHARLES, Erik discovered when he was crawling around in the ducts trying to save their ship from the collectors, had a sense of humor.  It was a deadpan sense of humor that was almost frightening coming from and AI, but a sense of humor none-the-less.

To be fair, he mused as he waited just out of sight while trying to get to the AI core to unshackle CHARLES completely (an idea he would be much more resistant about if CHARLES hadn’t often waxed poetical about peace between all life in the galaxy and while the reaper threat needed to be eliminated, perhaps the Commander shouldn’t be so fast to turn violence and intimidation in order to bring them all together to do so) he’d seen evidence of CHARLES’ dry sense of humor before, in their exchanges, he’d just never really thought about it.

CHARLES’ sophisticated synthetic voice as he said “I enjoy the sight of human’s on their knees” also invoked some images Erik had never really thought about, but he pushed them aside for processing later.

By the time Erik finally reached the core, legs aching from the strain, a few new fractures a fact rather than a supposition, it was too late.  The crew, CHARLES told him, was gone, taken by the collectors.

“Are you feeling well, Erik?” CHARLES asked him, once the collectors had been vented and they’d sent a message to the Commander.

It was the first time he called Erik by his given name, and, for all that the circumstances were far from ideal, it brought a small smile to Erik’s face.

Then he remembered that the crew was gone, and it was his fault, and the smile disappeared.

“No,” he answered, and his voice was rough with emotion he would not allow himself to show in front of an audience (which meant most of the ship was out.  CHARLES was  _everywhere_ ).  “But thanks for asking.”

* * *

 

Afterwards, things were different between them.  He and Charles worked together, finding a balance between man and machine that kept the Normandy running better than Erik ever could have dreamed.  He didn’t mind; it was Charles, and they needed every advantage they can get in the coming confrontation with the collectors.

The banter was still there, to Erik’s extreme relief and delight.  It was just…less combative, less provocative. 

They’d tried to call him ‘Joker’, back in the academy.  An ironic comment on his sunny disposition and winning social skills.  It hadn’t stuck, but Erik felt it said a lot about who he was and how he interacted with others.  Charles was one of the few people who Erik could count on to make him smile, to keep up with him quip for quip, to even make him laugh on occasion.

The Commander noticed the change in the tenor of their relationship and, being who she was, couldn’t resist commenting on it.

“Aren’t you taking the human-machine interface thing a little far?” she asked with a quirked eyebrow, and a smug smirk.

“What Erik and I are exhibiting is more platonic symbiosis than hormonally induced courtship behavior,” Charles offered helpfully.

The smile Erik offered for reassurance to the Commander wasn’t strained.  Why would it be?

* * *

Platonic, Erik said to himself as he and Charles worked together in perfect harmony to dodge the collectors as they went after their crew.  Platonic, he told himself as he watched in awe as Charles did everything in his power to keep their crew full of defectors away from the Elusive Man  Platonic, he repeated  as he did everything in his power to keep Charles safe and a part of his ship when the Normandy was returned to the alliance.  Platonic, he reminded himself over every shared joke, every late night, every personal revelation.  Platonic, he recited as he watched a delighted Charles discover more of who he was once he was free of his programing shackles.

When the synthetic walked onto his bridge, when artificial blue eyes met his own and Charles smiled at him for the first time, the word platonic was nowhere to be found.

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, we have Raven in the role of Sheppard here, but Emma would also make an amazing Sheppard, methinks. And since I couldn’t decide on a Shep, I couldn’t decide on and ending, so I thought I’d leave it here.


End file.
